Captive, a Simon Says Fanfic
by Pockyisgood
Summary: A few months after that horrible night, Kate escapes Stanley. On the tiring road, she comes across a small house belonging to a hermit widower. Soon his hospitality dissolves and Kate finds herself in a nightmare worse than the one before.


**So after months of working, here is Captive! A fanfiction based for the horror movie "Simon Says" with Crispin Glover and Margo Harshman. I really do hope you enjoy this, I worked really hard and I appreciate critical feedback. **

**This does contain spoilers for the movie, so I suggest watching it before reading this... unless you don't care. Takes place between the climax and the very end of the movie. Funny how I'm putting this out before Halloween. XD**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for Changeling. **

**Please do enjoy and review!**

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I had no concept of day or night. The hole Stanley put me in cut me off from everything. I had no idea of how long it's been since the day all my friends were killed by this monster, who now kept me as his pet.

I do have a hunch though. It had been getting colder lately; summer is probably ending. I guess that would make my time here a few months now. Ah, autumn. How long ago it seems the last one was. It seems I've been down here for years, or was it days? Either way, it feels as if I've been here forever.

I missed my parents. I wonder if they're worried about me.

Stanley hardly ever comes down here. Well, it seems he hardly ever does. It's probably twice a day, but it sometimes feels like years. He usually only comes down to feed me, or occasionally just to sit at look at me. Look at me as if I was a television show. Once or twice he'd just stare down at me like a lovesick puppy from the hatch in the ceiling. I think he was Simon when he did that. It's hard to tell, but he is mostly Stanley a majority of the time. He would look, but he would never touch me.

Whenever I thought about it -I do a lot of thinking now with nothing else to do- I get confused. I don't want to screw him or anything, and yet I miss human contact. Part of sometimes just wishes he'd brush his fingertips over my face or simply hold my hand; but no. He never touches.

Stanley is a quiet type. We haven't had a real conversation since he put me here. But then again, what would we talk about? The man killed my friends... brutally. God, I missed them. Yes, even though I argued with them the day everything changed... the day they all died.

I sat on the ratty bed, curled up into a ball. It was so cold and dark. I wanted to cry, but I doubted my eyes could stand the saltwater in them. My hands clenched around the rag that was my dress. Where Stanley had gotten it from I don't know, and quite frankly, don't want to.

My stomach growled. I couldn't see why I was so hungry anyway; I never used the energy.

As repulsed as I was towards him, I couldn't help wish Stanley was there. I hated being alone. What did he do everyday anyway? Hardly anybody ever comes by the shop. _Maybe I'll ask him,_ I thought, _strike up a real conversation._

As if he could read my thoughts, the familiar sounds of the _creak _then _clunk_ of the wooden hatch in the ceiling opening, then hitting the floor echoed in my ears.

I opened my eyes ever-so-slightly, allowing them to adjust to the sudden brightness. There he was, staring down at me with a blank expression. I squinted up at him as the light poured down into the pit I now called home.

"Hey, Dream Girl," he said. My empty stomach clenched at the southern vowels. "Brought you some supper."

My mouth watered at the thought of food. God, I could go for a cheeseburger, fries, and a coke. I was to get no such meal.

He disappeared for a moment, before reappearing, platform at hand. Stanley had built this wooden platform that he would lower my meals with. The platform had a hole in the middle where a think rope would be knotted though.

Why haven't I ever tried escaping on it? Several reasons. One, what would be the point if Stanley was already up there waiting for me? Two, it wasn't all that wide. Lastly, I doubted it would be able to hold the weight of a teenage girl.

So, down came my dinner via the wooden platform. I stood, awaiting the meal to come to me. There it was! What a sight it was.

A cold -likely rotting- bologna sandwich, served with mushy beans and carrots. The glass of water I was grateful for. In the second meal he gave me several months ago, I was given sour milk. I had diarrhea over the couple days after that. Stanley learned well.

The platform was placed nicely on the bed. I snatched up the sandwich, took a bite, and almost gagged. The bologna was disgusting. I forced myself to swallow, then took another bite. I had to be grateful. I reminded myself that it wasn't Stanley's fault. That he wasn't feeding me this shit on purpose, it was just all he had. There wasn't any town nearby, so grocery shopping was near impossible. I doubted Stanley could act sane in a grocery store anyway. The thought of him standing in line at the cashiers was actually an amusing thought. If it weren't for the disgusting meat in my mouth, I would've giggled.

It also made me wonder where he _did_ get his food. I paused, fork halfway to my mouth, thinking about it. I suddenly felt sick. I needed a distraction from such thoughts.

I looked up. Stanley was still there, head resting in his hands, with that lovesick puppy look. I swallowed the last of the veggies, gulped down the water, then attempted to talk for the first time since I don't know when.

"Hey Stan-" I startled at the way my voice cracked. I cleared my throat, "Wanna come down? It's lonely down here."

He said nothing, but looked down at me with that same expression he had when I was pretending to seduce him months ago. It was a look I'd describe as unsure, wanting to, but cautious, and nervous.

I cracked a forced smile, "C'mon. Simon says you come down and have a simple conversation with me." I had his full attention now.

My face ached; I couldn't remember the last time I last smiled.

"Aw'right," he said, disappearing once again from sight. He returned in no time with a thick rope to climb down with. Once or twice I had considered climbing that rope whenever he used it to come down. However, Stanley always made sure to put himself between me and my escape.

The rope landed on the floor with a _thud_. I sat back down on the bed as he climbed down. He landed on his feet beside the bed.

I patted the spot next to me, motioning him to sit down. He did so, blue orbs not leaving mine. Those eyes captivated me for a moment, those piercing blue eyes. Mystical and beautiful as they were; they searched for some hint of trickery. In all honesty, there wasn't any. I did just honestly want a conversation about anything. If I didn't communicate, I think I would get sick. I remember hearing somewhere in a magazine that socializing was good for the health.

So there we were, Stanley and I both ready to converse with no subject. We sat in silence. I occasionally stared into space. His eyes continued to watch me. I was the television again.

"What did you want, Dream Girl?" he said both suddenly and loudly, causing me to jump. My eyes darted to meet his, anger rising in the pit of my poorly-fed stomach. My brow knitted.

"First of all, my name is _not_ 'Dream girl', it's Kate," I blurted out.

He was taken aback somewhat. Then he rebutted with, "Your stoner friend called you Dream Girl and you didn't give that tone ta him!"

My mouth went dry at the thought of Zack. I could still hear his screams as he was burnt alive by the man in front of me.

I clenched my knuckles until they turned white and I growled, "Maybe that was because he only had moments to live."

"That's no excuse."  
I slapped him across the face. Even though the bastard deserved it, I immediately knew it was a mistake.

"I- I'm sorry." Shit. I was in deep trouble now. My mind flashed back to when Stanley told me that he would never hurt me. I wondered at that moment if he was telling the truth.

His cerulean eyes met mine. They were furious at first, but then they softened into a strange gleam. He started laughing.

_Oh God, what's he gonna do?_ I thought, trembling a little.

"Kate," he said. My jaw dropped. It was the first time I ever heard him say my name. It sounded nice on his tongue, more so than it did on Riff's.

"Yes?"

He didn't reply. I knew he wasn't going to when he said my name. I just wanted him to know that I answered to it.

For a long time he just stared at me again. At least he wasn't going to hurt me. However, we were back to a few minutes ago: complete silence. I hated it.

"Stanley?" I needed to break the sickening silence, "What do you think of me?"

_Wow, way to be selfish, Kate!_ I would've said asked about his family, but I didn't want to bring back memories of a hurt childhood. The unloved child of the twins.

He replied simply, "You're my dream girl."

God, I wished he'd stop saying that! "But why? Why am I your dream girl? Is it my hair? My eyes? My body? My personality? What is it that's so damn dreamy about me?" It was less of a question to fill the silence, but now more of curiosity. What was it that made guys like me?

"I like..." he seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Yes?"

"I like your eyes, your personality... you. Since the moment I met you," the nervous sincerity in his voice made my heart pound. It wasn't much of an answer and I never believed in that 'love at first sight' bullshit fairytales always talked about. However, Stanley was an impossible man -he survived a friggin cleaver to the skull for shit's sake!

My eyes wandered onto the scar that said cleaver gave to him. It ran from his forehead up into his hair, giving way to the part between the brown locks. I gave him that scar.

How he was able to survive that was beyond me. I never understood it, but I guessed that it was no use dwelling on it. He would never tell me even if I did ask.

The question I was thinking about before popped into my head.

"So, what do you do all day?" I asked, "When you're not with me, what do you do?"

He ignored my question, "I bet you've had plenty of men."

With the expression he was giving me, I doubted he was going to give me a proper answer anyway.

"A fair few," I replied. Three in all in fact, but I wasn't about to tell him that unless he asked. My first boyfriend I only went out for a year. I was only thirteen, and when I refused to sleep with him, he started cheating on me. It felt like the end of the world when I found out. My second boyfriend only lasted two months. I dumped him because he was totally boring. My latest boyfriend, of course, was Riff. Last I saw him, he was yelling at us to run before he was killed...

I wasn't calling Stanley a boyfriend. Ever. He was more of a captor and I was his captive.

Even though I hated his guts, I couldn't help admit that he wasn't half bad looking, handsome even. What age was he anyway? Mid to late thirties? Highest must be early forties.

"How many girls have you... charmed?" Surely I couldn't have been his only 'dream girl'... could I?

"Just the one gorgeous one sitting before me," Stanley's hand inched toward mine, but did not touch. The gesture reminded me of the day my life ended... the day we met.

Strange how I could recall that moment perfectly now. His hand subtly moved toward mine as he spoke. He referred to me then as his 'dream girl' for the first time. My friends didn't even notice when his hand suddenly wrapped itself around mine. His warm, rough skin made my stomach churn. With all my strength I pulled away from his grip, his face looked one of disappointment.

Was I crazy that now I wished he'd do that again? Was I mad that now I wished he'd touch me again?

Then a thought ran through my head that piggybacked his last comment; 'Just the one'. Could Stanley be a virgin? A few months ago I would've laughed at the idea, but now I wasn't sure what to feel. It made sense, I guess. Living a majority of his life in the woods, cut off from civilization. I realized why he wouldn't touch me now. Before he had me locked up, he freely touched me. I guessed that now he no longer trusted my touches. I sympathized; I wouldn't trust someone if they used my affections for them against me either.

_Oh God! _Am I really feeling sorry for him? The bastard killed my friends brutally! I should detest him, loathe him. What was I doing thinking good things for him? He... killed them. He killed them all! Mutilated, strangled, tortured them. I could never forgive him and his sick games! Why should I fucking care if he's a virgin or if he was cut off from society? I could see their faces; Zack's lingered in my mind.

A shock suddenly ran through my system. My whole body froze. Had I been hit by lighting?

Stanley's index finger brushed off my cheek. He was wiping away the tears I had not realized I had been shedding.

"What's wrong? Why're you cryin'?"

My wet eyes met his crystal blue orbs. Full of sincere concern, they were, and perhaps... guilt?

"Your skin is soft," he muttered. The gentleness in his voice made my eyes well up even more. I moaned, sniffing slightly.

Surprising both of us, I lunged forward, burying my face against his collarbone. He stiffened. I had a fistful of his shirt bunched up in my hand. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around me, patting my back.

"Don't cry, Dream Girl," he whispered. His warm body was comforting. I couldn't believe I was crying again, I thought my body was incapable of producing any more tears.

I suddenly didn't care if I was in the arms of the man who destroyed my life. I was touching something that cared for me. It was good enough for me.

The rope behind him caught my eye. Stanley was holding me tight, so the brief hope of escape quickly fled my mind.

"My Dream Girl. Mine. Kate's my dream girl," he muttered, pushing us down on the bed. I noticed Stanley kick the empty plate and glass off the bed to make room. I lay on my back, while he on his side. One arm slithered around my shoulders, while the other was around my waist. I don't know how long we lay there, staring at each other. Could have been from a few minutes to a few hours.

Stanley's eyes began to droop. They blinked slowly at me.

"Dream Girl," he muttered before closing them completely.

I propped my head up on my elbow to get a better look at him and for the first time in months, I gave a genuine smile. How could I not? He looked so peaceful when asleep. He looked... cute. Sweet, cute, and peaceful; who'd have thought a monster like him could achieve such looks?

My eyes took a tour around the pit, taking advantage of the rare light that streamed down. The place was ratty, dirty, and mold was growing in the farthest corner. I wrinkled my nose. Useless junk sat on the shelves, a cob web lining one of them.

I looked back down at Stanley, whose grip around me had greatly slackened. I thought about asking him if I could possibly live upstairs instead of this shithole. _Who knows? Maybe even share a bed?_

Then it caught my eye for the second time: the rope. Hope raised in my throat. I glanced down at the older man beside me; silent as a rock.

Trying not to wake him, I delicately untangled myself from his arms. He didn't stir as I placed the arm that was across my waist beside him. I swung my legs off the bed. The only sound he made was the steady breathing from the rise and fall of his chest.

"Goodbye forever Stanley," I whispered, turning my back to him and gripped the rope. I took a deep breath then let it out. Just as I was pulling myself up, my breath caught in my throat when a sudden grip wrapped around my ankle. I let out a yelp, before turning around to see a pissed off Stanley glaring back at me.

"You forgot to say Simon says! Now, we're you goin' Dream Girl!" he snarled. I whimpered and kicked at the hand around my ankle with my free leg. His grip tightened.

I didn't care if he was angry at me anymore, I just wanted out. I wanted to go back to civilization. I kicked harder, aiming for his fingers. I really wished I had shoes on. He started to pull me back towards him, forcing me to let go of the rope. I screamed, frantically groping at the empty air in front of me.

Suddenly, my free heel made painful contact with his little finger. Stanley yelped, drawing back and releasing my foot. I scrambled back over to the rope, gripped my hands and legs around it and began to climb.

I was halfway up when I realized Stanley was yelling something at me and there was pressure on the rope below me. I looked down and screamed -he was gaining on me. He reached out his hand to grab at me again. I unlocked one of my legs and blindly kicked at the area below me. My heel smacked right into Stanley's face and the pressure on the rope slackened. Without looking down, I frantically climbed the rest of the way up the rope.

I could have cried with joy when I reached the ceiling. Grabbing hold of the loose planks of wood of the floor, I pulled myself up. I swung my leg over the opening, pulling the other leg up too. Rolling over, I collapsed onto my back. I was out of that hellhole, but I wasn't done yet. I quickly pulled the rope up, and tossed it over to the side, away from the opening. He couldn't follow me now. I looked down.

Stanley was looking up at me with eyes filled with shock, anger, and was that... betrayal? It wasn't the first time I'd seen that look. He'd given me that look when I put the cleaver in his skull. This time, he somehow seemed more upset.

His eyebrow was bleeding. _Must've hit his head on the floor when I kicked him,_ I thought. _Must hurt like a bitch. Good._ I was glad he was in pain.

My hands clenched into fists and I ground my teeth. The ember that had sparked after Zack's cruel death suddenly exploded into a bonfire inside of me.

"I'm out, you fuckhead! I'm out and you're stuck in there!" I snapped, pointing at myself then at him for emphasis, "I'll_ never _want you! I hope you fucking die in there, you bastard! I HATE you! Rot, you monstrous shithead! Go burn in Hell! Stay and die and rot you bastard!" It was all coming out now: my anger, my hate. It was probably a little too much, but I didn't care. I stood up, my eyes burned as I screamed down at him. "I'll NEVER be yours!"

I took off, adrenaline fueling me. My body ached from the sudden use, but I didn't care. I had to get away from him. I blindly ran out of the station, head down, the gravel of the dirt path painfully rough against my bare feet. I was glad I felt that pain. It made me know I was alive.

I don't know how long I ran for. Minutes? Hours? I had no concept of where exactly I was heading. _Away from there,_ I told myself.

I found myself passing by familiar sights. The cemetery, where my friends and I first heard the tale of the unfortunate twins who killed their parents. I passed the "grave sites" sign that Riff mistook for "campsites." I kept going beyond that.

At some point I had stopped running, but continued walking. I followed the road. There had to be a passing car sometime right? At least, a car that wasn't heading towards the grave sights.

The sun was beginning to set as I came to that fork in the road. They'd all be alive if we took the right path, I thought.

Finally, I collapsed. I guess I should have expected this. My legs were numb. I gently patted them. _Good work girls. Didn't think we'd make it this far._

I took in deep breaths. My heart was pounding and my head hurt. My mouth felt dry and my stomach ached for food again.

Dark gray clouds were getting closer and the wind was picking up slightly, causing the evening air to feel colder. Great, rain. I frowned, looking up at the sky. I was getting tired and I didn't want to sleep in the rain. Outside, I wouldn't mind; but with rain, I could get sick if I wasn't already.

_Shelter, shelter, shelter. Where can I find shelter? _I thought, closing my eyes and trying to think back to when we were on the road. _What buildings did we pass? Let's see, _I played that trip backward in my mind. _Setting up camp, some road, then Stanley's tool shop, lots of road, a fast food place... no! There was something before that. C'mon, Kate! Think, Kate, think!_ I hit the sides on my head with my fists, concentrating, trying to remember.

I was cuddling up with Riff in the backseat, lacing my fingers with his. "So do you think tonight we could...?" he whispered into my ear. "Mmhm," I smiled and nodded. "Knock it off, you two," Ashley grumbled loud enough for everyone to hear. Riff said something about being a killjoy. _Typical Ashley,_ I thought before I rolled my eyes over to the window for a split second. In my memory, time seemed to move in slow-motion. There, beyond plenty of green, was a white cube-like figure. At the time I thought nothing of it, but now it seemed like the most important thing in the world.

I opened my eyes. A house! I sprung to my feet, ignoring the aching that they brought with them. The house wasn't far off, if my memory served me well. I remember not long after passing it, we started talking about Zack bringing a map or not. Hope raised inside my chest as I hurried down the road to shelter, to safety.

At this point, I didn't care if the house was occupied or not. As I walked, I counted the number of good things either way.

If empty, I could stay there as long as I wanted. I wouldn't feel obligated to anyone or anything. Then again, if somebody did live there, I could use their phone. They'll have food. Good food, a warm bed, and a phone I could use to call the police. The police will know what to do. They'll take me home to my parents and little brother and this nightmare will be over. I'm sure the cops will interrogate me as to what happened to the others. It will be awful to relive the horrific memories, but my mom and dad will be at my side. They'll get me through it. They'll be able to put Stanley and Simon away for good. Probably in some insane asylum. Yes, I can do this! This nightmare is almost over.

The rain was coming down heavily by the time I reached the front door of the little white house. Seeing no doorbell, I rapped on the wood.

"Help!" My voice crackled, "Please let me in! It's raining!"

The light above me came on. Yes! Someone was here!

The door unlocked then cracked open. I leaned in closer to get a better look. A dark blue eye peered out, a chain lock was still in place.

What a sight I probably was with my damp, unwashed hair that stuck to my face and my soaked raggedy dress.

"Can I help you?" a voice behind the door said; male, by the sound of it.

For a moment I felt at a complete loss for words. I've only spoken to Stanley since that night. Talking to a normal person seemed unnatural. I had to think of what I was going to say before I said it.

"Please... help me. I was kidnapped by a man who killed my friends a few miles from here. Please, can I use your phone to call the police or something?" I sounded pathetic, but I didn't care.

"I don't have a phone," he replied. My heart sank. I would've been angry with him, but I was too exhausted. I quickly flashed back to my plan of if no one lived here. Stay the night, continue in the morning.

"Can I at least stay the night? It's raining-"

"I can see that."

"-Maybe something to eat or maybe a bath?"

The eye blinked, then replied, "Alright."

The door closed, a chain clinked, then it opened again. There stood a man in in late forties with sandy blond hair that partially fell around his face on the left side. He had a slim build with a long, thin face and fine, dark eyebrows. His pale skin made the dark blue eyes more prominent. He was dressed in a plaid button-down shirt, blue jeans, and gray socks.

"My name is Martin Changeling," he said then added, "Doctor Changeling."

_What luck! A doctor!_ I thought, then replied, "I'm Kate, Kate Adams."

He moved aside to let me in. With a "Thank you so much," I entered. He closed the door behind me.

"Excuse my shyness," he said, "but ever since my wife's death, I hardly ever go out into society."

I sympathized. "It's alright. I- I mean I'm sorry about your wife."

He gave a weak smile. "You must be freezing. I still have some of my wife's old clothes that you can have," he said.

"Thank you."

The inside of the house was quite simple and plain; a typical home you'd expect to find in a suburb. Simple wood boarding, doorway that lead to a dining room at the left and a living room at the right, with the staircase in front of us.

"I'll be right back," he said, before walking over to the closet under the staircase. He unlocked the door, then stepped inside.

The thunder rolled outside with the occasional flash of lightning. And as Dr. Changeling dug out clothes, I couldn't help but think of what Stanley was doing right now.

Was he still stuck down there? _Obviously._ What did he think of me now? _Hated me._ Would I ever see him again? _God forbid._

"Um, Kate?"

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up. Dr. Changeling held a purple bundle of some sort out for me. I thanked him again and accepted the clothes.

"The bathroom is just upstairs, you can't miss it," he was right about that; I could see it from where I stood. "You can take a shower and I'll prepare some dinner. Then you can tell me what happened... You look dreadful."

I flinched as he put a hand on my shoulder.

"Sorry," he said, drawing away.

"No, it's me who should be sorry."

I trudged up the stairs, my hair dripping on the wood. I held onto the banister with one hand to keep from falling. I avoided looking into the mirror as I closed the bathroom door.

I used the toilet first, glad that for once I wasn't relieving myself in a chamber pot or corner. I thoroughly washed my hands and face several times. Rinsing the soap off, I looked up into the mirror over the sink. I almost screamed. A girl with large, wide eyes stared back at me. Her hair was tangled, dirty, with split ends appearing everywhere. Her pale cheeks were hollow, lips were chapped, and her eyes had dark rings under them. The poor girl looked as if she just crawled out of a grave.

"Is this really me?" I asked aloud.

I shed the rag I called a dress, letting it pool at my feet. I was thinner than I remembered. My ribs were barely showing and I could slightly see the outline of my pelvis bone against the skin my hips. I wrapped my arms around myself as a draft swept through me. I shivered, then moved to turn the bath on.

I sunk into the hot water with a small smile. For the first time in months, I felt relaxed.

As I soaked in the tub, I thought about my friends. Of Vicky flirting with some guy in the hallway at school. Of Zack driving strangely consistent, despite being high. Ashley giggling about making s'mores. Riff kissing me for the first time... If I could go back, I'd do something different for each of them. I know I would. I would've been a bit more friendly to Ashley. I'd dump that cheating bastard Riff, so he could screw Vicky all he wanted. Then -yes, I would- I'd get with Zack. Maybe I could have helped him clean up his life a little; get him off the pot at least. I furred my brow before sticking my head under the water.

It seemed to take forever to comb out my now-clean hair. I thanked God for not finding any lice or ticks.

Dr. Changeling's wife had an old-fashioned taste in clothing, but I didn't mind. Anything was better than that rag. The dress was a nice light shade of purple, with a tie around the waist and while frills at the edges. It came down to my knees and the sleeves came to my elbows. I was surprised that she was relatively the same size as me, give or take a couple of inches.

When I came down the stairs, dinner was already on the table. Dr. Changeling was setting plates down at the table. He looked up, sensing my presence. His mouth gaped open a moment.

"Oh," he said, "I'm glad it fits."

I looked down at the dress, "Yeah."

I looked up, a picture on the mantle behind him caught my eye. It was the doctor with a woman beside him. They had their arms around each other. _Him and his wife_, I concluded. She was shorter than me judging by where the top of her head came up to at his collarbone. She was blond and had a lovely smile. The doctor was also grinning. I doubted he ever grinned like that these days.

"I've made dinner," he said, drawing me from the photo. I looked at the table and almost cried. Food! Real, healthy, non-molding food!

"Thanks so much. I'm starving," I grinned ear-to-ear and sat down. He did too. Dr. Changeling didn't say grace and I didn't blame him. He seemed to be a man who lost his faith long ago. I, myself, was never a really religious person, but I recalled my mother always having me say grace. Even if I was really religious, I would've forgotten to anyway.

I eagerly snatched up my fork and skewered two pasta tubes and shoving them into my mouth. When it touched my tongue I almost cried again. My mouth exploded from the sudden taste of spices, onion, feta cheese, and garlic. I chewed quickly and swallowed. I stuck more pasta onto my fork and brought it to my mouth and repeated again.

"Don't eat too much too fast," Dr. Changeling warned. I nodded, remembering what I learned in school. If you haven't eaten much in a long time don't overeat suddenly, or your stomach could explode... or something like that.

I felt as if I was in heaven. No more rotting food for me! I tried to control myself, I really did. My plate was only half empty when I stated that I was full. Dr. Changeling said that my stomach will eventually accept more food at a time over time.

I glanced over his shoulder at the photo again.

"How did your wife die?"

He grew silent, putting his fork down with a _clank._

"I'm sorry if it's touchy subje-"

"No, no. It was... it was an accident," He spoke no more about it, picking up his fork and continuing to eat.

"So what happened to you anyway?" he asked.

"I suggest you don't eat while I tell you," I replied, but he luckily was finishing up anyway. I proceeded to tell him the story from the encounter with the gravediggers, to the horrific deaths, all the way to my confinement and escape. Of course I left out some of the details of seducing Stanley and laying with him in the pit. I also left out some of the more personal conversations with my friends. Those things were none of Dr. Changeling's business.

When I finished, he paused to contemplate everything I said. Then he replied, "Well, it sounds as if you've been through a hell of a lot."

"Yeah, I guess I have."

"Well, my offer for shelter still stands. I heard on the radio when I was cooking that the storm is going to go all night."

"I cannot thank you enough, the food was good," ..._seriously, how many times have I thanked this man?_ The edges of my lips curved upward.

"Kate, why did you leave me?" Stanley asked, his eyes wide like a puppy dog's. Maybe he was Simon? No Simon would said something like "Simon says you shouldn't have left." But no, he didn't say that. I never met the real Simon. The real Simon was still in a coma somewhere. This was Stanley.

"You scare me, Stanley," I replied.

"I didn't mean ta-"

"But you _do!_"

Stanley hung his head and whispered, "Please don't yell at me again, Kate."

"Stanley-" his piercing blue eyes looked up at me.

"_You_ didn't have to lock me down here," he snarled. I took a step back to compose myself. I glanced around; we were in the pit again. I focused on Stanley.

"Stanley, you wouldn't have let me go if I asked. I had no choice!"

"Yes, you did!" he snapped, making me jump a little. He finished darkly, "And now you'll regret it."

"What do you mean?" my voice trembled. His lips curled in a demented smile.

"When I find you, I'll make sure you _never_ leave me again." He laughed. I covered my ears, but his booming laughter only became louder and louder, until it felt deafening.

My eyes snapped open. My body was covered in a cold sweat. My eyes darted around the room, unsure of where I was. I sighed in relief, memories returning. I was in the spare bedroom in Dr. Changeling's house.

I sat up and shivered. My eyes fell upon the open window. Wasn't that closed when I when to sleep? Rolling my eyes, I got up and walked over to it. It wasn't raining anymore.

_So much for the storm going all night,_ I thought.

The outside world seemed so strange. No, not strange and this wasn't the outside world -it was still the same world. When I was home, _then_ it would be the outside world. The trees here seemed a lot less harmful than those surrounding the grave sights.

_Stanley_... I wondered if he gave up trying to get out of the pit by now. What was he saying to me in my dream? I did remember him in my dream, but I couldn't recall what happened. All I remembered was that kicked puppy face.

I shook my head and shut the window, cutting off the chill night air. _At least the thunder and lightning stopped._

I crawled back into the comfortable bed, falling asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

I awoke once again to a scratching noise. Groaning, I turned my head to the clock on the wall. The moonlight pouring in allowed me to see that the clock read 4:00 in the morning. What could be making that sound?

My eyes searched the room, falling then upon a dark figure beside the bed.

Jumping, I let out a small yelp. I squinted, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I sighed in relief.

"Oh, Dr. Changeling. You startled me. Is there something wrong?" He was dressed in a white lab coat over the clothes he was wearing earlier. His expression was blank, dark eyes unblinking.

He lifted a water bottle to a wash cloth, spilling some sort of liquid over it.

"Dr. Cha-" Changeling brought the cloth over my mouth and nose. I flailed my arms, trying to push him away. The word 'chloroform' came to mind before I blacked out.

My head was throbbing when I came to. My eyes drifted open, the world around me was a blur. I could hear the sound of metal clanking together. The smell of some kind of roast filled my nostrils. Everything was too loud and I took note that I was strapped to something.

Wait, strapped?

Snapping back to reality, my surroundings were suddenly clear. Leather was clamped around my wrists, forehead, abdomen, and ankles; strapping me onto some sort of metal table. I couldn't move my head, so my eyes darted around the room on their own.

_Some sort of laboratory,_ I thought, my eyes flickering to the various instruments and machines I couldn't name.

A whimper escaped my throat when I caught sight of Changeling leering over an iguana-green liquid in a flask.

"Good, you're awake," he said, sounding somewhat pleased by this.

"Doctor, what's going on?" my voice was frantic.

"You're going to be part of an experiment of mine," his voice was calm.

My mind flashed to every mad scientist movie I ever saw. Oh, God, was I stuck in one?

"But it won't hurt me right?" _What a stupid question!_ I scolded myself, but I guess I had to have some hope.

"It very likely will," he replied, eyes still fixed upon the flask.

I suddenly felt nauseous. How could I have the worst luck in the world? These things don't happen to people twice! Perhaps I could change his mind, "Please don't hurt me."

Changeling sauntered over to me, a large needle filled with that green liquid at hand. "I'm sorry, my dear, but it will have to."

"Just let me go," I pleaded, my eyes welling up. I was so close to safety; how could this happen? What have I done to deserve this? "I just want to go home," I found myself saying aloud.

"But, my dear, that's why you're the perfect specimen. You've already disappeared and they've probably given up looking for you."

It hit me then -I had to be brave again. Like I was with Stanley, I had to play along.

"Dr. Changeling?"

"Yes?" he was flicking the bubbles out of the syringe.

"May I ask what the hypothesis is?" He took the bait.

"Women's tolerance of pain compared to man's. Tolerance of pain until madness."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Don't you need data from a man too?" I asked.

"I already have it," he replied, "I got the results from myself."

My jaw dropped. No wonder why the man was so jittery sometimes... he experimented on himself.

"Now, shall we begin?"

First there was a familiar pinch I remembered from shots I've gotten. Then, my veins felt as if they were on fire, burning right through my skin. A high-pitched sound filled the room. Was that my screaming? I couldn't tell.

When I came around again, I at first thought that what had happened was just a nightmare. But when I opened my eyes and exhaustion took over, I knew it wasn't.

"I think that was a little much for the first time. Don't you think so, Katie?" My whole body ached. My eyes drooped.

"Time for the next step," I heard him say, the end of the sentence muffled somewhat. He was carrying a shiny scalpel over to me.

"Please stop," I gasped, but he ignored my plea and brought the scalpel over to my face. I could feel him piercing my skin, almost drawing a circle on my cheek. I cried out as I felt him snipping the skin off.

He showed it to me -the top layer of the skin of my left cheek in his white-gloved hand. Blood ran down my chin, along with tears. _He's gonna torture me until I go insane,_ I thought, _I won't give him that pleasure._

He plopped the piece of skin onto the surgical tray beside me. He took off his blood-stained gloves, then jotted down something on a clipboard.

"How did your wife die?" I asked quietly sometime later. Changeling paused then replied,

"It was when I was experimenting on myself. So, it was not that long ago I'd say," he looked off into space and continued, "She caught me slitting my forearms one night. She thought I'd gone mad. Said she wouldn't have anything to with it," he looked up at me, "Said she was gonna call a doctor. I reminded her I was a doctor. Then she said that she'd call the police."

He gritted his teeth, "Then she said I was insane. She fell down the basement stairs trying to get away from me!"

_I don't blame her,_ I thought.

Changeling became quiet, staring off into space again. At least with Stanley, he had (somewhat) a reason why he acted the way he was. He was alone and unwanted as a child. Changeling... Changeling had a wife. He had someone who loved and cared for him.

The 'scientist' blinked rapidly, bringing himself back to reality. He snapped on a fresh pair of latex gloves, cleaned the scalpel, then returned to me. Over those next few hours, he proceeded to cut more bits of skin off parts of my body. Namely my right arm, calf, and shoulder. Blood must have been pooling on the ground, but all I could feel was the pain. I passed out when he was working on the side of my abdomen.

There was once a boy named Jimmy. He was a single traveler whose car had broken down a little ways down the road of a little white house. He came to the house in search of a phone, for his cell wasn't getting any service. No one answered the door, but it was unlocked, so he stepped inside looking for the inhabitant.

He found none on the ground floor, however. He found his way to the basement, thinking that the owner of the house must be down there and simply didn't hear him at the door. But when he came down the stairs, he found himself stepping into a laboratory. He looked around in shocked amazement. Technology seemed to be everywhere. He didn't notice the blood under his sneakers.

Then he spotted a girl. A girl who was strapped to an operating table. This girl was me.

"Oh my God, are you alright?" poor Jimmy didn't know what to make of everything. The girl was barely conscious and was missing pieces of flesh. The bleeding girl didn't answer him.

"Hold on, I'll get you out of here," he began fumbling with the leather straps that held her in. Sparkling eyes looked up at him with hope. Was I finally to be free?

"I'm Jimmy," he said, as the girl attempted to move. _Help me Jimmy,_ she thought, for her voice felt too weak to work.

She was about to attempt to tell the rescuer her own name, then he saw the shadow behind him. I screamed to warn him, but it was too late. Changeling had already snatched up a scalpel and started plunging it into the poor Jimmy's back. Blood squirted onto the murderer's lab coat. A permanent stain. Jimmy whipped around, attempting to fight back. Changeling shanked the scalpel deeply into the younger man's chest. Jimmy fell to the floor, dead.

Sometimes I wonder if Jimmy ever really existed. Was it just another nightmare about a failed rescue attempt? Then again, the next time I awoke there was a nasty rust-colored stain on the bad doctor's lab coat.

"How are we feeling today, my dear Kate?" Changeling asked. I could have vomited at the cheerfulness of his voice. I wanted to tell him off with a "Fuck you." Instead, I opened my mouth to say something else, something I felt I needed to say, but no sound came out.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Changeling asked, bringing his ear closer to my face, his hand cupped around it.

With all my strength I rasped, "I miss... Stanley."

He backed away, eyes wide and the smile wiped from his face. His hands balled into fists, his teeth gritted again. "Why?" he whispered, then said louder, "He was a _monster_ who murdered the people you loved for no reason but for fun."

My eye twitched as I suddenly found the strength to clear my throat and rasp back, "Are you... any different?"

"I'm doing this for science!" he snapped back. He scoffed, "You're _just_ like her! I'm doing this for a reason!" his voice squeaked the last part.

"Stanley's gone," I muttered, a tear rolling down my injured cheek, "and you're no better than him. He... he would never hurt me, no matter what I did."

Changeling smirked, "Oh yeah? I doubt that. If he saw you now, he'd think that you were_ trash_. A corpse."

"At least... I'm not a monster."

Fire blazed in his dark eyes, snatching up a large knife. Part of me wondered if that's exactly what his wife called him. A "monster."

Smart woman.

"I'll show you a monster, you little bitch!" he growled..

"Is that what you said to her?" I asked. His jaw set before plunging the knife into my shoulder. I hollered in agony.

Leaving the knife in, Changeling strode up the stairs and turned off the light, shrouding me in darkness.

I whimpered, feeling the hot blood flowing down my arm. I didn't care anymore if I died. I'd prefer it compared to living in this Hell.

Doing my best to ignore the pain, which was difficult, I wriggled my body. No use, I was stuck. _At least the knife didn't pin me to the table,_ I thought trying to raise my hopeless spirits. _I'm probably going to bleed to death._

There was a sudden _thud_ above me. Despite the darkness, my eyes flashed to the ceiling, the source of the noise. _Asshole is probably throwing a tantrum._

Then I heard a crash and a yelp. Someone was yelling. Then there was the _pat-pattering_ of running footsteps. Then... it was silent.

My heart pounded in my ears. _What the hell was going on up there?_

The basement door creaked open, and I heard the familiar sound of footsteps on the old wood of the stairs.

The light was switched on and I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for something painful to happen. But then a southern drawl said gently, "Dream Girl?"

I opened my eyes and almost cried. There stood Stanley, clad in the same trousers and plaid shirt I last saw him in. The cut on his eyebrow was barely visible. His light blue eyes seemed relieved and concerned.

"Dream Girl?" he said again, a bit more fervent. My eyes welled up as I wailed in return, "Stanley!"

"Dream Girl, what're you doin' there? How'd you get yourself all tied up down here?" I could have kissed him if I weren't strapped down.

"Get me out of here, Stanley," was all I could say, however.

He hesitated, eyeballing me. For a moment I thought he wasn't going to do it, and I wouldn't have blamed him. After all, I _did_ leave him in that pit with no hope of escape. Jerk probably knew a way out I was never able to find. To my relief, he unstrapped me.

Trying to move, I hissed, remembering the knife that was still in my shoulder. I was so happy to see Stanley, I completely forgot about it. He placed one hand on my collar, and wrapped the other around the hilt of the knife. Without warning, he pulled the bloody thing out. I cried out.

My body felt a numbing pain overtake it. I couldn't stand on my own and my eyes were drooping. _Shit! I can't pass out now!_

Stanley picked me up bridal-style and carried me over to the staircase. _I'm not going to make it,_ I could feel life slowly draining from me. _I'm so tired. Maybe if I took a nap-_

"Kate, don't you _dare_ die on me!" Stanley's booming voice sucked me back into reality. I forced my eyelids to open. I wasn't ready to die yet!

When we reached the top of the staircase, I could hear it -the rain. _How long have I been down here?_ I pondered, wondering if that time I woke up from that dream I was really awake. Through the kitchen window, I could tell it was gray outside. The pine trees looked greener than ever, and I was here in Stanley's arms.

He brought me through the kitchen and into the living room. I could see the door! The wood part of it was gaping open and the screen door was laying on the porch.

Then I sensed the feeling I was falling. Stanley's suddenly pained face became further and further away. I was glad that I didn't pass out when I hit the floor.

I turned my head to the side to see what was happening.

Changeling stood facing Stanley, a freshly bloodstained kitchen knife at had. He looked pissed off as hell. Stanley towered over me -protecting me. Blood was dripping from his fingertips. I assumed he was hurt in the shoulder.

"You bastard!" Changeling shrieked, "Do you have any idea what you have _done!_" The lower part of his shirt was soaked in blood.

Stanley gave a light chuckle the said very seriously, "Do you?"

"I _saved her_ from you!"

"No, you didn't, and I'm gonna kill ya for what you _did_ do. Hear me?" his voice rose to a shriek, "I'm gonna KILL YOU!

The familiar words stung me, memories flooding back. Riff, Zack... all of them. He killed my friends and now he was going to kill my captor. But was he any different? Changeling tortured my body, but Stanley tortured my heart.

"I won't let you ruin this for me!" Changeling yelled before lunging at Stanley, knife first. Stanley managed to dodge the blade, but they had both tripped over me, tackling each other to the floor.

The doctor had lost his grip on the knife, which now lay at my feet. However, straddling Stanley, he was beating the crap out of him with bare fists. Maybe Stanley will lose this fight... but did I want him to?

I tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea kept me down. I wished I wasn't so weak, then I'd be able to take this opportunity and get the hell out of there. _Shit... I've lost a lot of blood. Oh God, I'm dying, aren't I?_ My vision was blurring again.

"_Kate!_"

I widened my eyes. _No! I'm _not_ ready yet!_

I found the strength to sit up and lean against the nearest wall. The two men had their hands around each other's throats. Stanley let go his right hand to sock Changeling's jaw. I swear I heard something crack.

Changeling stumbled off of him, clutching his jaw in pure agony. Stanley practically jumped to his feet, stumbling over to the door in the hallway. For a moment, I thought he was abandoning me. I'm so selfish! But no, he came back as quickly as he had left, pick-ax in hand.

It was his, I'd know that bloody tool anywhere. Brown strands of hair fell across his scarred forehead. Pure hatred seemed to be etched upon his face.

Changeling looked up, as if sensing the new danger the tool presented. His face was paler than ever, his blond hair was greasy and tousled.

Without even the warning of a battle cry, Stanley charged in with the raised pick above his head. He brought it down. The metal of the ax sunk down into the nape of Changeling's neck. He wailed an inhuman sound, blood splattering everywhere. I mean _everywhere_; on the wall, the carpet, the window, his clothes, Stanley, and even on my leg.

Stanley pulled the ax out of the oozing flesh was a nasty wet, slurping sound, then thrust it back in again. Out, then in. Each time he brought the pick down, he added a word to his sentence.

"Don't. You. Ever. Mess. With. My. Dream. Girl. You. Son. Of. A. Bitch!"

He brought it down one more time, but by then, Changeling was already dead.

Stanley slowly turned towards me, blood dripping down his nose and chin. Blue eyes stared intently at me. He shuffled over to me. My vision blurred, my eyes welling up again.

I grabbed his pant leg to pull myself up. He dropped the pick and held out a hand, helping me to my feet. He picked me up, lifting me into his arms, supporting me with his hands on the small of my back. I wrapped my legs around his torso so I wouldn't fall. My arms hung around his neck.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, wiping the blood on his lips with the palm of my hand. Once those lips were clear, I kissed them. I never kissed Riff with so much intensity as I did Stanley at that moment. It seemed a bit of a shock to him at first, but he quickly relaxed and let me have control. _He tastes like cream and nutmeg,_ I thought, pressing further into his mouth.

Tears were flowing freely as I broke the kiss and stammered, "Stanley! I don't hate you and I'll never leave you again. I'll say anything you want, do anything you want. Just please don't ever leave me!"

He said nothing. We kissed again, this time he took control, slipping his tongue between my lips; I let him.

Stanley carried me bridal-style out to his truck that sat in the gravel driveway behind Changeling's car. The drive back to the gas station was a quiet one.

"C'mere, Dream Girl," he muttered, gently pulling me out of the truck.

As soon as we were inside, he put me down on the check-out desk and pulled a first-aid kit from the shelf. As he fixed me up, I couldn't help but wonder if that's how he survived a cleaver to the head. First aid kit. I smirked at the ridiculousness of it.

When he was finished, he picked me up once again and carried me over to the all-too-familiar trap door to the pit. Panic raised in my throat.

"Stanley, wait! No! Not in there again! Please-"

"I told you, I'm not stupid! Can't let you wander around. You'll leave me again."

My mouth gaped open. How could he say that after everything I said at the house? Was he not listening? Maybe it was because I didn't say 'Simon says'. Then again, I have deceived him before. I frowned.

"Please Stanley. Just... not tonight," I pleaded, caressing his cheek with my thumb, "Simon says not tonight."

He searched my face, possibly considering it.

"Only if..." his sentence trailed off, finishing with a gentle stroke of my thigh.

I swallowed thickly, "Alright."

He carried me away from the Hell Pit to somewhere I realized I'd never been before: his room.

It wasn't much, but it was nicer than the pit, and it seemed to match him perfectly somehow. The dresser was covered in a thin layer of dust and the window blinds were closed. Nothing much, but good enough for him.

Stanley placed me on the bed, kissing me in the process. I gently lay against the bedsheets, resting my head against the pillow. The mattress beneath me felt good against my aching back. He crawled on top of me, kissing me again. I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. It was then that I let Stanley take me.

Did I love him? I wasn't sure. I hated him. But he was all I had now, and I accepted that.

The End


End file.
